


What Do We Say of the Sons of Durin?

by zjofierose



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 02:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3158369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjofierose/pseuds/zjofierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>And when the dust has settled, and the fallen stones have found their crevices, when the ice has melted, and the dead have been laid to rest, what then do we say of the great battle for the Lonely Mountain?</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do We Say of the Sons of Durin?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what the hell this thing is. An open response to re-watching the BotFA, I guess. I sincerely apologize.

And when the dust has settled, and the fallen stones have found their crevices, when the ice has melted, and the dead have been laid to rest, what then do we say of the great battle for the Lonely Mountain?

Shall we tell of Bard, Dragon-slayer and leader of men, who fearlessly headed his people into battle, not caring that the numbers were against them, nor that they were simple townfolk, but only caring to defend house and home and hope? Shall we tell of his willingness to try and reason with the dwarves, to play the deal-maker between the King under the Mountain and the King of the Woodland Realm, of his dedication to peace first, and justice always? Or of his son Bain, who followed without hesitation in his father's footsteps, who braved the fiery breath of the great and terrible Smaug to aid in the defense of their city? And of his daughters, Sigrid and Tilda, who wavered not at all in the face of dwarves and orcs and terrible misfortune, but bravely stood their ground and defended what was theirs.

Or shall we tell of Thranduil, Elf-king of Mirkwood, and his great pride that left him cold and alone, bereft of son and friend, surrounded by death and trapped in his palace of wood and stone? How his brave soldiers fought and fell, defending Erebor against the orcs, and when it was done, how Thranduil turned aside to spare them more, and let the dwarves fall? How his deep-seated pain robbed him of friendship, of family, of all that is good and lovely in the world, leaving him ageless and empty in a perfectly preserved wooden tomb?

Let us not forget the wizard, Gandalf the Grey, Mithrandir who speaks with the elves, who was precious to the Lady of Lorien. Gandalf, who befriended the dwarves and protected them on their way, who would lead them by secret paths and guard them from the dangers in the deep. Gandalf, who warned them all, who counseled against the dragon-sickness, who pleaded with them to listen, to be moved, to stand down. Gandalf who showed them the way, Gandalf who bore the key and the map, who set them on their quest, who guided them together to the end.

Nor shall we forget the halfling, Bilbo Baggins and his one ring; barrel-rider, walker-in-shadows, burglar, and hobbit of the Shire. Bilbo it was who found the Arkenstone, Bilbo who spoke with the great wyrm Smaug. Bilbo who freed the dwarves when they were held captive by the elves, Bilbo who found the keyhole in the side of the mountain. Bilbo with his mithrail shirt and his sword, Sting, who ran to give the alarm at the end of the battle, Bilbo who took himself into danger to warn the King. Bilbo who remained the truest of friends, and Bilbo who never gave up, never gave in.

We must speak as well of the company itself, those brave dwarves who left their homes and livelihoods to journey on a lonely quest, to seek the home of their fathers, to light the forges in the heart of the mountain. They sought only their rightful home returned, and knew not whether they would succeed or die. Truly, they paid a high price in suffering for the sake of their fateful quest.

And oh, the sons of Durin! Mighty were they, and fierce!

We must tell of Fili, heir to the throne and fearless champion; mighty warrior and honorable man. Truly, none other showed such devotion as Fili to his kin, who sacrificed himself that his family might be spared, who went alone to challenge the orcs in their tower, who stayed behind that his brother might not be alone. Fili, through his own noble acts, fell in the service of his king, run through with an orc blade, and was lost. Yet, we shall sing of his bravery into the ages to come, that he shall never be forgotten.

We tell also of Thorin Oakenshield, Lord of Silver Fountains, and King under the Mountain, who led his folk for all of the long years in exile, who never forgot, who never forgave. Thorin, who, on his own, gathered his company and set out, Thorin, who led the defeat of the dread Smaug, Thorin, who cast off the dragon-sickness of his fathers through force of will, and laid down his life for his people and home. Thorin, who chased the pale orc on a white warg and killed him, who avenged his family and made proud his line. Thorin, the great king, who would not hide behind walls when battle raged, who strode forth and defended his realm. Thorin, who, when he had killed Azog the Defiler, fell from his wounds and died, and whom we remember and shall never forget.

And what of the black-haired archer and his elf-maid? Kili, son of Dis, brother to Fili and second heir to the throne? Do we tell of his skill with the fiddle and the bow, his clever fingers and his skillful aim? Do we speak of his reckless bravery and willing heart, of his sacred promise and pure-hearted hopes? Of how he hung back to kill the orcs and defend his men, how, even when grievously wounded by a Morgul shaft, he freed the company by opening the water gate? Do we speak of how he challenged Thorin, how he stood firm in his beliefs and would not be shamed?

Or do we remember instead his great love, his loyalty to Tauriel, the elf Captain and fearless warrior, whose healing touch saved him from certain death, who bent her life to defending his own? We dare not forget her bravery, her defiance of her king, her valiant stand for all she held dear. Her skill with blades and a bow, her determination to bring safety and security for her lands and people. Her sense of justice and right action, her recognition of all that is good and true.

What shall we say of the love between them? Of the bond they shared, though it were far too short? Of how she came to him to save him, and when, instead, he saved her, of how she gave her all to defend him? We bow our heads in remembrance of his young life lost, of the magnitude of her great sorrow, and the severing coldness of death that came between them. We remember also how she dedicated the remainder of her life to wiping the orcs that had killed him and so many others from the face of Middle-Earth, before she gave up her spirit to the Halls of Mandos, hoping against hope to cross over and find him waiting there.

And of their love, their deep regard for one another, which bloomed too fast and was ripped apart too soon, we shall always say this:

_It was real._


End file.
